


Back by Friday?

by katedf



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katedf/pseuds/katedf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard has to go to London for a few days to accompany a suspect and meet with the Serious Organized Crime Agency. He says he’ll be back on Friday, but Camille isn’t sure about that. Not consecutive chapters, but a few scenes that I wanted to see go differently. post-ep for 2.8</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “I Think He Said I’m Going to London”

**Author's Note:**

> My PBS station showed the last episode last night. So, in honor of the occasion, I dug out the Wedgewood and made a proper pot of tea to enjoy while I watched. There were a few places where I wanted to hijack the script, so I’ve written my own versions of two scenes.  
> I was disappointed by the ending. It was cute that he came back ranting about the lost luggage, but I wanted one of those little moments, those flashes when they’re in sync. She was smiling, and I wanted him to stop ranting and LOOK AT HER and get it. And of course, my disappointment is made worse by knowing that Ben Miller won’t do season 3.

One hour’s notice. One hour and he’d be gone. Camille wanted to kill the Commissioner. Richard nattered on about packing and the temperature in London. Four degrees. Camille thought back to her year in Paris. What did four degrees feel like? 

Then Richard went off on a tangent about plans changing, and how a brief assignment on Saint Marie had turned into much longer. Then he went on about loving his time on Saint Marie, and Camille recognized it for what it was. Never speak ill of the dead or the place and people you’re leaving. This was a goodbye speech. 

May as well come out and say it, she thought. “You aren’t coming back, are you?”

“Yeah, of course I am.”

“No, you’ll get there and it will be cold and rainy. You’ll have a beer in a pub and you’ll want to stay.”

“Of course I’m coming back. I have to deliver the prisoner and be interviewed about the case, and that’s it. The Commissioner is giving me an extra few days to visit my family. Then I’ll fly back here.”

Camille just looked at him. Richard couldn’t figure out what that look meant. Not exactly sad, not angry. 

“Camille, look,” he said, picking up his plane ticket, “It’s a return ticket. I’ll be back on Friday, see?”

“You said just said you don’t know what will happen. You were here for one case and then you stayed. You could go back there just for this and then stay.”

Richard thought about this. It was his ideal scenario, wasn’t it? Go back to London for a few days and have those days turn into a new assignment. Oddly enough, that scenario did not sound as appealing as it should. 

“Camille. I’m not leaving for good. Not leaving the team.” He paused. Didn’t she understand that he had tried to tell her how much that unexpected trip to Saint Marie had changed his life? “Not leaving _you_.”

He took a step toward her, and then a car honked and Dwayne and Fidel appeared.

“Your car is here, sir.”

“Let us take your bags.”

Richard handed his cases over, and the two officers took them to the car.

“You have to go,” said Camille, looking down unable to meet his gaze.

“In a minute.” Richard looked at her sullen expression and watery eyes. She really thought he was leaving for good. And it mattered to her. So … _he_ mattered to her? He had never felt that he mattered to anyone, apart from his family. 

“Camille,” he lifted her chin so that she was looked at him. “I will be back on Friday. And I’ll miss you every second that I’m away.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently. The car horn sounded again. Richard picked up his passport and ticket and sighed. "Friday," he said and walked to the car.

“Friday,” said Camille as she watched him leave.


	2. “Bit of a Problem There”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my version of what follows the last scene of the episode. It assumes what I wrote in Chapter 1 did NOT happen.

The team gathered in Catherine’s bar to welcome their Chief home. Camille had just calculated the time from the plane landing to Richard’s likely arrival—for the fifth time.

“And what time is it now?” Camille asked.

Dwayne sighed, “A quarter to six.”

It was time. Where was he? Fidel was sure Richard would be back. Dwayne had said the Chief wouldn’t be back, but he was here, waiting with the others anyway. All week, Camille had been alternately bracing herself for the news that Richard wouldn’t be returning to Saint Marie and counting the hours until he would be. 

When she saw the Commissioner and heard him say that there was a “bit of a problem,” Camille thought, _This is it. He’s going to tell us Richard is staying in London. Just breathe, you can do this. You knew he’d grab any chance to get out of here, so this shouldn’t be a surprise. Don’t make a scene, suck it up and be a grownup. It isn’t like you meant anything to him anyhow. And he didn’t mean anything to you, right? Of course he didn’t. So this is okay. You’ll be fine. Breathe, just breathe. Because you know—”_

And there he was! Spluttering about lost luggage, but here, right here in Honoré. He came back! And he was his old grumbly self. And the world was turning again.

Richard said he could stay for just a quick drink, beer would be fine, no need to make tea. He told them about the weather in London, and how his mother had been horrified at his stories about having a lizard living in his house and how people ate seafood with eyes that looked back at them.

“I’m afraid she thinks we all live like savages,” he chuckled. Richard pulled a large box of PG Tips from his carry-on bag. “She sent me home with a supply of tea. Catherine, will you keep a stash here for me? When it runs low, let me know and I’ll ask Mum to send me more.”

Camille blinked back tears. He brought tea back with him. He really was planning to stay! 

Richard yawned, “I’m knackered. I barely got over jet lag in one direction and now I’m jet lagged in the other direction. My body thinks it’s coming on toward midnight.”

“I’ll drive you home,” said Camille.

Richard closed his eyes and dozed for the short drive to his house. As soon as the car stopped, he woke. He turned to thank Camille for the ride and saw that she was crying.

“What’s wrong?”

“You came back.” _sniff_

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be unhappy about it.”

“I’m not. It’s just that I didn’t think you would come back.”

“Oh, bloody hell! Did I or did I not say I’d be back today? And, look, I’m here, on Friday, as promised. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand you.” Richard got out of the car, grabbed his carry-on bag and slammed the door.

Camille was already out of the car. “Of course you’ll never understand me, because you’ll never try,” she shouted.

“Camille, it’s late, I’m tired, and nothing makes sense to me now.”

She advanced on him, in full rant mode, “Right, because you don’t care that I missed you and I thought I’d never see you again. I’ve been so worried, and now I’m so relieved that I don’t know what to do. I’m angry at you for putting me through that. And when I’m angry, I cry. Sorry if you don’t understand that. It’s just how I am.” _sniff_

“Are you finished?”

“Yes. _sniffle_ “But—”

“Uhn-uh, you said you were finished.”

“But I—”

“Honestly, Camille! Sometimes I don’t know whether to throttle you or—” He dropped his bag, put his hands on either side of her neck, slid them up to her face, and kissed her.

Camille squeaked in surprise, then fully participated in the kiss. 

When they broke for air, Richard stroked her cheek and said softly, “I missed you, too. Now, I’m going to go into the house and fall into bed. And you are going home.”

“Richard…” 

“I’m much too tired to do justice to what happens next.”

“But if you think about it, you might not want what happens next.”

Richard smiled, “Not a chance. I’ve thought about little else ever since I left. But we have plenty of time. I’m here to stay.”


	3. What Time Is it Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done with this, but another variation occurred to me.

The team gathered in Catherine’s bar to welcome their Chief back to Saint Marie. Camille calculated the time from the plane landing to Richard’s likely arrival. 

“So he should be here around a quarter to six. And what time is it now?”

Dwayne sighed, “A quarter to six.”

It was time. Where was he? Camille fidgeted with her drink. Then she went over to the bar to rearrange glasses that didn’t need rearranging. She returned to the table.

“What time is it now?”

Fidel checked his watch, “A little past six.”

Camille tapped her toe. She looked at the light strings to see if there were any burned-out bulbs. She attempted origami with a cocktail napkin. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Almost half past,” said Dwayne before she could ask.

Camille stood, “Forget it, he isn’t coming back.”

“Maybe the flight was late, “Fidel suggested.

“No it wasn’t.”

Catherine didn’t say anything, but exchanged a glance with Dwayne. Camille had taken the time to check on the flight. So that’s what she had been doing on her phone.

“So much for a party. I’m going home. I have a headache.” Camille turned to go.

“Ma chère, can I make a cup of tea for you?” said Catherine. “I have some nice herbal—”

“Oh, Maman the LAST thing I need now is a cup of tea!”

Camille managed to get into her house before she let go and cried. He really wasn’t coming back. And he hadn’t called or emailed or texted. He just didn’t show up. She picked up a pillow from the sofa and threw it across the room. 

“How could I love such a damn coward, who didn’t have the nerve to tell us, didn’t even care enough to say goodbye?”

Shit. She really said that. And damn, she really meant it. 

Back at the bar Fidel said, “I think he’ll be here. He’d have called if he wasn’t coming back. He wouldn’t just disappear like that.”

Dwayne shrugged. 

“But he was really becoming part of us, you know? Well, in his own odd way, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Dwayne. “I know what you mean. And Camille… she’s not going to take it well if he doesn’t come back.”

Catherine joined them and said, “The commissioner’s car just pulled up.”

Commissioner Patterson walked over to the table where the two officers sat. 

“Where’s the Chief?” asked Fidel

“Well, bit of a problem there.”

Dwayne and Fidel exchanged glances, this wasn’t good.

“Too bloody right! They lost my luggage AGAIN. What is wrong with this place that they can’t keep track of baggage? It isn’t such a large plane, it isn’t such a busy airport, I swear they’re out to kill me!”

“Hi, Chief!”

“Welcome back, Chief.”

Rant over, Richard looked at his welcoming committee. One person was missing. “Where’s Camille?”

Catherine relaxed. Not _Hi_ or _Hello_ or _How are you?_ No, the first thing he wanted to know was _Where’s Camille?_ Catherine was pretty sure about her daughter’s feelings, but had little hope of them being returned by this reserved, controlled man. But maybe she hadn’t looked closely enough.

“She has a headache, so she decided not to wait.”

“Oh.” Richard relaxed a fraction, relieved that Camille’s absence was not due to a blind date. 

“Shall I make you some tea, Richard?”

“Um, no, uh no thank you. I think I’ll just go home. I’m tired. Fighting with those idiots at the airport really takes it out of you, you know? See you all tomorrow.”

The commissioner offered to drive Richard home. At the beach shack, Richard thanked him and went into the little house. 

“Hi Harry, I’m home.” he called out to the empty house. He looked on the veranda, and saw the water dish and mashed mangoes. Camille had taken good care of his lizard. Richard leaned on the railing. He was surprised at how disappointed he’d been that Camille hadn’t been at the bar. The Commissioner had been instructed by Catherine to drive him to the bar because the team was waiting to greet him. But the whole team hadn’t been there. Not that he wasn’t pleased to see Fidel and Dwayne. But that wasn’t the whole team.

Richard was sorry that Camille wasn’t feeling well. He chided himself for selfishness. Poor woman was ill, and all he had been able to think about was whether she was with someone else. He sighed. He hoped that damn suitcase would show up. He’d bought a souvenir for her, and he’d be disappointed if he wouldn’t have the chance to give it to her. He’d spent ages—and a shocking amount of money—in Liberty trying to find a scarf that would suit her. The sales assistant had been very nice, but for some reason she couldn’t grasp the idea that he was buying the scarf for a woman friend who was not his _girlfriend._

Richard took out his phone. No, she might be asleep. That’s what he should do, too. Get some sleep. He pulled pajamas out of a dresser drawer. He frowned, trying to remember why he’d bought all the same exact blue stripe. He had to admit it. All of his creativity and imagination were used on the job. In his personal life, he was sadly dull. He showered and put on his pajamas. He thought he should be sleepy, but he wasn’t. Even the warm shower hadn’t eased the travel stress. He walked out onto the veranda again and gazed at the ocean. He’d missed the sound of the waves. He would leave the veranda doors open tonight and listen to the familiar sound as he fell asleep. 

All of a sudden, Harry dashed onto the railing. He looked Richard over, seemed satisfied, and took off in pursuit of a cricket. So now everyone had greeted Richard except the one person he most wanted to see.

Better than nothing, he thought, as he went into the house to get his phone. Richard hated texting, but it was all he could do. He sat on the veranda and wrote a message

 _I’m home, sans luggage. again. Missed you. Hope you feel better._

Richard set down the phone and leaned back in the chair. He took in a deep breath. Somewhere nearby one of the night-blooming vines had opened its flowers. He sighed. It felt good to be … home? 

He thought about checking to see if there was a beer in the fridge. Or perhaps make a cup of tea. But he couldn’t seem to get out of the chair. It was just too comfortable to sit here in the warm evening and soak up the smells and the sounds. Then he heard the best sound on the whole island.

“Richard?”

“Camille? I thought you had a headache.”

“It went away five minutes ago.” She held up her phone, still displaying his text. “You said you’re home.”

“As you see,” Richard stood and gestured to the house.

“ _Home_. Not _back._ You said you were _home.”_ Camille closed the distance between them. “Richard, could you ever… do you think… could Saint Marie ever truly be _home_ for you?

Richard pulled her into his arms, “It is now.”


End file.
